


Things Are Not Always What They Seem

by Meltha



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Post-Hogwarts, challenge, working together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-21
Updated: 2012-04-21
Packaged: 2017-11-04 02:05:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meltha/pseuds/Meltha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war, Hermione and Draco have to fight to protect Hogwarts one more time with some very unusual allies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things Are Not Always What They Seem

**Author's Note:**

> Story inspired by the fanwork "Last Stand" by Ponekad and written for the reverse challenge. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is made from this work of fanfiction.

“No.”

The word was said with a nearly infinite level of finality, and when Hermione looked at Draco, she noticed that he wasn’t simply in a petulant mood she might be able to cajole out of him. His eyes were downcast, and rather than his trademark sneer of pseudo-contempt, the lines of his lips were drawn tight and almost painfully thin.

“I don’t believe I phrased this mission as a request, Malfoy,” Kingsley said in a tone that didn’t brook dissent. “This needs to be done, and I am ordering the two of you to do it. If you don’t, there will be serious consequences.”

Draco said nothing and did not raise his gaze, but he nodded his head in acquiescence, a movement so small it might have been missed by all but the keenest eyes. Kingsley nodded in turn.

“Granger, you will accept the assignment as well?” Kingsley asked, his voice less severe with her. “We need your expertise in dealing with the Muggle-related aspects of the issue.”

“Yes, Minister,” she agreed, but there was some caution in her words.

Hermione Granger had never met a problem she didn’t at least want to solve, but for this one she had few ideas of what to do. As she and Draco left the newly elected Minister’s office, her mind was clicking from one possibility to the next, rejecting her solutions as quickly as she created them. Her steps fell into synchronization with Draco’s out of habit, the soles of their feet ringing loudly inside the Ministry’s nearly empty corridors. It was very early in the morning, not yet four, but the summons from Kingsley had been urgent.

“Do you think he noticed?” Draco asked, his voice colorless.

“What, that you thought being assigned to protect Hogwarts was slightly less pleasant to you than having my parents drill your teeth simultaneously without anesthetic?” Hermione countered, trying to lighten the mood.

“No,” he said, and the fact he refused to rise to her bait made her more concerned. “I meant do you think he noticed that the Patronuses he sent both wound up at the same spot since we were together at your flat?”

Hermione frowned, wondering if he was embarrassed about their relationship or just wanted to keep the one shred of privacy the Prophet hadn’t managed to tear away from him in their campaign to find the son of a former Death Eater guilty of something.

“I doubt it,” Hermione said. “It’s not a requirement of the Patronus charm that the sender know where the recipient is specifically, just like with owl post. That’s why it worked so well during the war.”

“I’ve never had one, so I wouldn’t know,” he said.

That didn’t really make his motives any clearer but muddied the waters further. Hermione had tried to help him produce a Patronus several times, but nothing had worked. No matter what memory he used, the best he got was nothing but mildly glowing vapor, completely without form. She suspected that he hadn’t been able to focus on a memory happy enough to drive out his experiences from the war. It had become a common problem for many Aurors, especially those who had witnessed the worst parts of battle. George Weasley’s had taken three years to rematerialize fully. 

She noticed that without thinking both of them were heading towards the street exit on instinct. With a small smile Hermione realized that they were both craving caffeine, and the coffee shop around the corner from the telephone box that served for the visitor’s entrance would probably be opening for the day in only a few minutes. 

They walked to the little shop in silence. The proprietor, a tiny little man named Cortino who Hermione suspected might very well have some goblin blood in him a few generations back, was just turning the sign from closed to open. He grunted at them in greeting as they came through the door. 

“Usual?” he asked them.

“Yes, please,” Hermione said, her hand going towards her purse as she fumbled in the pocket where she kept Muggle money.

“I’m paying,” Draco said, his voice sounding even more tired than the situation warranted.

“No, really, I’ve got it,” Hermione said.

“I’m paying,” he said, and this time there was a sense of bitterness in the phrase that convinced her to close her purse.

“All right, suit yourself. I’m not one to say no to a free cuppa,” she said, heading towards a small booth in the corner as he collected and paid for their drinks.

Draco brought the two steaming paper cups to the table and sat across from her without a word, adding three packets of sugar to his coffee and neglecting to stir it before taking a long, deep drink that left half the cup empty. Hermione actually couldn’t stand the taste of coffee, finding it too bitter, though she quite liked the smell of it. Instead, her cup contained hot chocolate and cinnamon. She took a tentative sip, wary of burning her mouth, and let the warmth of it spread through her until it seemed to warm even the ends of her toes. Cortino was good at his job.

“Any ideas?” Draco asked warily.

“Several, none of them especially promising,” she said. “You?”

“Nothing, unless you count running to Sri Lanka and never coming back,” he said, staring out the window at the darkness.

“Would that be with or without me?” she asked, instantly wishing she hadn’t.

His eyes immediately turned back to her, and he shook his head.

“You’re not the type to run,” he said, and she noted he had avoided her question.

“Well, supposing for the moment we forego the possibility of Sri Lanka, let’s get a few things on the table. Why did you refuse Kingsley at first?” she asked, trying to stir her hot chocolate casually and managing to flick specks of it all over the table. She never had been much good at pretending to be nonchalant.

“Because I don’t want to see Hogwarts again, that’s why,” Draco said, and he sounded surprised, as though he had expected she would already know that. “Why would I ever want to lay eyes on that place again?”

“Oh,” Hermione said, feeling as through she really should have realized that. Hogwarts meant very different things to her: safety, friendship, discovery, wonder, and even in the worst times, her clearest link to the world she had been born to live in. For him, the memories would of course be quite different. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, and the nasty bite to his words was actually reassuring. “Let’s get this over with. I may not like the place, but I don’t fancy a bunch of idiotic Muggles destroying it, either.”

“And probably getting killed by Acromantulas or angry centaurs into the bargain,” Hermione pointed out.

“Right and… wait, there’s a thought,” Draco said, staring into the middle distance.

Hermione waited patiently. She hated being interrupted when an idea was coming to her, and she could practically see a light bulb going off over Draco’s head.

“Okay, so we know that the spells keeping Hogwarts safe were boosted by Dumbledore during his tenure as Headmaster, right?” Draco said.

“Yes, he added more Muggle-repelling charms to the ones already in place from previous centuries,” Hermione said.

“And since his death, a lot of those have been breaking down,” Draco said.

“No one’s been able to match his skill there, so yes, some of the spells are starting to dissipate,” Hermione said. “Plus, the air around the school was so over-charged with dark magic during the Battle of Hogwarts that most spells for wide-spread defensive magic and cloaking are hard to cast with perfect accuracy. Given a decade or two, the effects should go away and the atmosphere will heal enough to allow better protective spells to work again.”

“So those are out, but what do those spells really do? They convince Muggles that they have somewhere else they need to be so that coming any closer to Hogwarts than the edge of the Forbidden Forest isn’t something they want to do,” Draco said.

“Pretty much, yeah,” Hermione said.

“So we need to replace that with something else that makes them decide that going into the Forest isn’t worth the risk,” Draco said.

“Okay, but what?” Hermione said. “Are you thinking of selective memory charms on a person to person basis or maybe casting a large Uglification enchantment over the area? I don’t think those will work, not when there’s money involved. The idea of putting up a housing project where the Forest is must be pretty enticing. Real estate is very lucrative in the area, and Muggles can’t figure out why they’ve let that big patch of woods just sit there untouched for years.”

“Hence the demolition crew parked two hundred yards from the first trees,” Draco said. “But in the old days, think what witches and wizards did to ward off unwanted Muggles.”

“If you’re talking about the Muggle baiting games from the sixteenth century--,” Hermione began, getting very red in the face.

“No, no, I promise, I’m not talking about hurting them,” Draco said, his hand reaching across the table towards her automatically. “If I’m remembering old Binns’s class right, didn’t he say that legend was a very powerful tool?”

“You stayed awake in Binns’s class?” Hermione said, surprised.

“Not often, but everyone gets a touch of insomnia now and again,” he said, shrugging. “Anyway, before Muggle repelling charms were perfected, didn’t the wizarding community make up stories to scare away Muggles from spots they didn’t want them showing up?”

“Yes,” Hermione said, squinting as she tried to remember. “I think for the Quidditch World Cup of 1723 they spread a rumor that a specter was haunting the bog in Ireland that was being used as the venue. They started the rumor campaign about a year before, complete with stories about a headless ghoul in a flaming wedding dress or some such foolishness, complete with flashing lights, loud bangs, and screaming to mimic Quidditch crowd behavior so no one would suspect what was really going on during the match. No Muggle set foot out there for nearly a hundred years.”

“Exactly,” Draco said, taking another sip of coffee and then shuddering. “How much sugar did I put in this thing?”

“Three packets,” she said.

“Needs more,” he muttered, throwing in another two. “Anyway, we’ll just frighten the Muggles away with a good story.”

“They’re not quite as gullible as they used to be, though,” Hermione said. 

“Who says they need to be gullible? The nastiest thing in that Irish bog was the stench, but the Forbidden Forest really does have a whole slew of things just waiting to take a bite out of any unsuspecting Muggle who happens past,” Draco said.

“True,” Hermione said reasonably, “but exactly how are you planning to get a bevy of Dark creatures to cooperate with us within the next two days?”

“Hey, I came up with a brilliant plan! You come up with the details. You’re supposed to be the smart one,” Draco said, taking another sip of coffee and smiling at her angelically.

Hermione sighed but tried to plot out how to make this come about without getting them all killed.

“Well,” she said slowly, “they don’t necessarily really have to be Dark creatures, do they.”

“Seems a shame not to use perfectly good, giant, hideous spiders when they’re handy,” Draco said with a shrug. “I mean, if the humans really thought that computer generated Muppet they used for Shelob in that Lord of the Brooches movie was scary, they ought to get a gander at the really thing.”

“Lord of the Rings, Draco,” Hermione corrected him on reflex, though she smiled at the memory of the two of them watching those movies together and realized he was only having her on. Draco had rather fancied Eowyn. “But really, we don’t have enough time to forge a truce with the more unfriendly sentient beings in the forest, though the Ministry has been very remiss in not sending ambassadors to speak with them on a regular basis to discuss matters of common concerns…”

“Hermione, before you go into a tirade about gigantic spider welfare and form another consciousness raising group, let’s get back to the point at hand, shall we?” Draco said, giving her a look.

“Fine,” Hermione said, though inwardly she filed away the idea for discussing with Kingsley at a later date. “In the meantime, we could try to do something with the creatures that we already have a relationship with.”

“Which would be…?” Draco asked, looking confused.

“Well… we could try the fairies?” Hermione asked hopefully.

Draco nearly snorted coffee out of his nose.

“You expect the Muggles to run in terror from a group of fairies?” Draco said. “Seriously? Why not just attack them with bunny rabbits or adorable kittens?”

“You weren’t in Lockhart’s class when the Cornish pixies attacked,” Hermione said. “They’re distantly related, and they were really very unsettling.”

“Unsettling? Yeah, because what we want is Muggles who are vaguely uncomfortable and slightly annoyed,” Draco said, setting down his cup so hard that a bit of the coffee sloshed over the edge. “We need to do better than that. Maybe if we brought in Mab or Titania--”

“Yes, because dealing with Fae queens who enjoy randomly killing anything in their paths is always an excellent public relations move,” Hermione said, folding her arms and quite determined to be as contrary as her boyfriend.

“They’re more impressive than beings Hagrid regularly uses as Christmas tree baubles!” Draco said loudly enough to make Cortino glance up from wiping down the counters.

“Muffliato,” Hermione murmured quietly, and the old man tapped his ear and grumbled to himself something about needing to check his hearing aid before he went back to filling the creamers. “Could you kindly keep a civil tongue in your head before we’re arrested for disturbing the peace? Besides, the only reason you want Mab and Titania is their rather overly abundant physical charms.”

“Not the only reason,” Draco said, smirking. “I grant you that one is on the list, though.”

“Some dragons are pretty, too, but I still don’t think we should loose them on Muggles,” Hermione said coldly. “Really, the fairies ought to be enough. Muggles aren’t used to seeing anything magical. Even garden gnomes would probably frighten them.”

Draco gave her a disbelieving look.

“Seriously? Your lot are that… sensitive?” he said, obviously having censored himself from something much more derogatory at the last second.

Hermione caught herself grinding her teeth and gave him a strained smile.

“I’ll deliver the fairies tonight at seven o’clock, and I assure you, they’ll be perfectly serviceable for the cause. If you want to bring in something else, something you think might be more impressive or manly or whatever overblown term you want to use, feel free, just so long as they don’t go rogue on us,” Hermione said.

“Fine. Seven o’clock, the far side of the lake,” Draco said. “I think I might be able to concoct something interesting myself. See you then.”

They left the café casually, drifting down the street together and blending remarkably well with the Muggles in the clothes they had thrown on after Kingsley’s owl arrived. Hermione glanced sideways at Draco, watching him from the corner of her eye. Draco in Muggle clothing was still very much a novelty to her. Like most pure-bloods, he had never worn anything but robes until quite recently, not even during the World Cup incident of so many years. In spite of the rules that the Department of Magical Games and Sports had passed requiring magical culture to be incognito, Lucius had managed to bribe the proper officials so that his family could do exactly as he wished. Seeing Draco striding down the street next to her while wearing simple blue jeans and a white button up was strangely exotic and more than a little hot.

At precisely the same moment, they ducked into a deserted alleyway that was their usual point for Apparition, and she gave him a sly grin.

“You know, the typical Muggle couple heading for a vacant alley would have an entirely different reason,” she said.

“Yeah, one would probably be trying to mug the other,” he said, but the playful tone in his voice told her he was joking.

They both had full days ahead of them, but Draco still took a moment to pull her in for a kiss, sweet and warm, ending with Hermione giving his lower lip a small nip.

“We’ll pick up where we left off later, yeah?” he said, sounding a bit ragged.

“We will indeed,” she said, beginning to turn in a circle, but managing to give his bum a quick swat on the way before she Disapparated.

At 6:59 exactly, Hermione was standing at the lake, watching the reflection of Hogwarts shimmering on the water’s surface. The towers and crenellations had been rebuilt, and the castle seemed as ageless and ancient as it had the first time she had ever laid eyes on it as a soon-to-be first year in a boat bobbing on the same lake. That seemed like ages ago, almost as though it had all happened to another person. The world had changed, as Dumbledore’s tomb bore witness, but there was some consolation in knowing that these walls would once again welcome children in September, as they had for centuries, and they too would look with awe and wonder at the school.

“Knut for your thoughts?” said a quiet voice as Draco’s hand lighted gently on her shoulder.

“Just coming home again for a moment, despite what Thomas Wolfe wrote,” Hermione said, turning towards him and feeling his arms wrap tightly around her. She remembered that his memories of Hogwarts were different than hers and lifted her face to his, hoping he was all right.

“I was a prat here,” Draco said ruefully. “Particularly to you.”

“Yes,” Hermione said, quirking the corner of her mouth into a smile.

“But…,” he prompted her, but she just continued looking at him. “Come on, there’s got to be a ‘but’ in there, right?”

“No but. You were a prat, end of sentence,” Hermione said. 

“So why exactly do you put up with me, then?” he asked

The mask he wore so often that kept his features schooled into sarcastic indifference, the one she knew was his greatest defense, slipped away. The question was real, and she knew that he needed to hear the answer, needed something that would give him some small measure of absolution, especially here.

“Because now you realize you were a prat, and that’s the difference,” she said, her smile turning gentle. “The person you are now is the man I love, and what happened before isn’t important anymore.”

She hadn’t said the actual words before, not to him, not even to anyone else. It was like taking a leap off the top of a mountain and hoping she could grow wings and fly off into the sunset, and she waited, not even realizing she was holding her breath.

He smiled. It wasn’t the smile that had edges of disdain and bitterness, the one that he used so often. It was a true smile, one that somehow made him seem much younger, and it washed away layers of self-recrimination and uncertainty.

She wanted to see that smile forever.

“I love you too,” he said, then sighed. “Unfortunately, we have yet another battle to get out of the way or else the Muggles are going to wind up as morning porridge for Aragog’s grandkids. Let’s get this over with so we can go home and shag one another senseless properly, eh?”

She laughed and nodded.

“So, were you able to round up anything that might get the construction company out of the way?” Draco asked.

“Of course,” she said, then shot bright yellow sparks out of her wand. 

Immediately, what appeared to be a thousand fireflies shot out of the forest and surrounded them, swarming like a tornado of little lights.

“Dizzying,” Draco said as the fairies shot past him in a circle, “but I’m not sure it’s exactly off putting. Actually, it might make a decent photo for a vacation brochure.”

“You’ll see,” Hermione said, and they began skirting the edge of the forest, the fairies continuing to whirl around them as they went. “What about your contribution?”

“They should be arriving at the far edge of the forest in a few minutes,” he said. “Just… don’t be alarmed.”

She blinked and stared at him.

“Alarmed?” she asked. “Why exactly would I be alarmed?”

At that precise moment a wail rose from the trees, one that made Hermione’s skin shiver into gooseflesh immediately.

“Werewolves?” Hermione said, her voice cracking. “It’s the full moon, Draco! Are you out of your mind?!”

“Not werewolves, just wolves,” Draco said, sounding a little unnerved himself.

“Oh, just wolves!” Hermione said, looking at him as though he’d grown two heads. “There aren’t any wolves native to Britain, so where exactly are these ‘just wolves’ from?”

“Krum,” Draco said, shrugging. “He and Poliakoff have been working with Eurasian wolves. It turns out they’re more magical than previously thought, and apparently much more sentient. The Ministry has been cooperating with Krum for a while on seeing if they can set up some sort of communication with them, and it’s actually been progressing quite well.”

“You asked Viktor to loan you wolves?” Hermione said, hoping it didn’t sound as insane aloud as it did in her head.

“No. I owled Viktor and asked him if any of the wolves would be amenable to a brief job via Portkey at Hogwarts. He asked them, and five of them said yes,” Draco said.

“They… said yes? They can talk?” Hermione said, goggling at him.

“Apparently so, but in their own language, kind of like merpeople. They’re just very close-mouthed around humans,” Draco said. “Another sign that they’re intelligent, really, it taking us so long to find them out.”

“You’re joking, aren’t you,” she said, glancing over her shoulder and seeing a pair of mirror-like eyes flashing at the edge of the forest in the light from the fairies. “Okay, apparently not.”

As they continued along the edge of the forest, the fairies still swirling around them in a pretty but rather seasickness-inducing display, the wolves kept pace with them just within the treeline. Hermione was never sure where all five were at any one time, but there was one particularly large wolf, the one who had first made eye-contact with her, who remained closest and was never out of view. She tried very hard not to think of her grandmother telling her the story of Little Red Riding Hood. Beautiful as the creatures (beings, she mentally corrected herself) were, they were more than a little intimidating, even knowing whose side they were on.

She felt Draco’s hand press her fingers in a reassuring squeeze, and it was only then she realized she had been holding his hand in the first place. It came so naturally to her now that it was like breathing. She looked over at him to find that he was already looking at her, and the fairy lights created a pattern of alternating light and dark on his face, his aristocratic features both revealed in their fullest intensity and cloaked in shadow. But almost like the wolves, his eyes glistened in the black of night, a look that was protective and predatory.

“You’re utterly stunning, you know that?” he said, slowing them to stop and letting the fairies (who Hermione noticed were pulling kissy faces with unabashed rudeness). He let go of her hand to thread his fingers through her hair. “I love what these lights do to you. You look like a Fae queen yourself, wild and untamed.”

She opened her mouth to make a quick-witted, self-deprecating comment, but he put a finger to her lips.

“Just this once, hush and take the compliment for what it is. I mean every word of it,” he said, then drew her into a kiss.

The fairy lights continued to dance across her closed eyes like random rays of sunlight, and she felt his lips pressing more insistently against her own. She melted against him, letting her defenses down completely, and she felt him do the same. It was mutual surrender, and the warmth of his body seemed to pour into her soul, filling her with love.

A sudden, sharp whistle broke through her reverie, and they broke apart abruptly, looking around. The large wolf was sitting between two enormous oaks, his head cocked to one side and his eyes glinting mischievously. Then, giving them an unmistakable leer, he angled his head in the direction they needed to go as if suggesting they should hurry up and took off again.

“Did he just…?” she asked, looking at Draco quizzically.

“I guess they don’t call it a wolf whistle for nothing,” Draco said, laughing, as they continued with more determination towards the proposed work site.

The Forest ended almost abruptly, coming to a stop in a meadow that appeared to be dotted with white clover in the moonlight. Hermione quickly assessed the situation. The yellow construction equipment had already been moved into position to begin the destruction tomorrow morning, but the workers wouldn’t arrive until morning. However, as they had known, the foremen of the crew were still there, pouring over blueprints with electric torches, pointing at things, and generally waiting to lap up the woods like a fire. They were, however, distracted enough that they didn’t notice their new arrivals. 

“All right, fairies,” Hermione said quietly, “you’ll wait here for exactly three minutes, and when you see my signal, you know what to do, yes?”

Several hundred heads all bobbed in unison, then their lights went off at once as though someone had flipped a switch. Hermione turned expectantly towards Draco, who was standing a few feet away in a circle of wolves, talking to them quietly.

“Everything ready?” she asked him.

“Quite,” he said, giving her competitive grin. “I hope your fairies aren’t going to feel too out-classed.”

“By the way,” said a low voice at her wrist, “Mr. Krum wishes us to send you his best regards and to remind you that his offer of a holiday in Bulgaria still stands should you wish to visit him.”

Hermione stared down at one of the smaller wolves who was currently giving her an unmistakable bow. Apparently Viktor had left off a bit or two of information about their guests.

“Uh… thank you,” Hermione said, surprised she could still speak through the shock. “That’s very nice.”

“But I believe that the invitation will go unanswered,” said an even lower voice, this time from the head wolf, and he opened his jaws slightly in the form of a toothy smile that under different circumstances would have been terrifying. “It appears this one already has chosen her mate.”

Draco quietly muttered, “damn right she has,” before giving the wolves a hand signal that sent them scurrying towards the last trees.

“Hold on to your hat, pet,” Draco said, standing to one side. “This should be good.”

A single, low howl broke the night air, and even from a distance of two hundred yards, Hermione could see the heads of all the humans swing as one towards the sound. No sooner did the note die then another overlapped it, creating an unearthly echo of prolonged, unbroken baying, and each wolf in turn took up the call. Hermione noticed that they had moved into position around the foremen and were circling them slowly, forming a ring of eerie howls that came faster and faster until all five were wailing in unison. Even knowing that the wolves intended the Muggles no harm, Hermione was chilled by the sound.

“Do you think it’s even necessary to bring on the Tinker Bell parade?” Draco asked, looking smug.

“Technically Tinker Bell was a pixie, not a fairy,” Hermione said with exaggerated primness.

She gave him a sidelong glance, then cast her Patronus. Immediately, an otter erupted from the end of her wand, looking ghostly in the moonlight, and the fairies took their cue. Draco, crossed his arms and waited patiently, hoping Hermione wouldn’t be terribly disappointed at the lack of reaction she was about to get.

But, instead of a swirling mist of fireflies, there rose into the air a Chinese Fireball, its red scales flashing crimson and gold in the night sky like fireworks exploding. It circled the small clearing at breakneck speed, accompanied by the howling of the wolves, who didn’t seem the least bit perturbed at the gigantic dragon wheeling over their heads. 

Draco’s jaw had long since dropped open and was swinging slightly in the breeze.

The dragon jack-knifed itself upwards into the sky until it looked like a large star, then hurtled back downwards towards the earth, flames spouting from its mouth like the belly of a furnace, the baying of the wolves reaching an ear-shattering crescendo.

Then, in a split second, the dragon split into thousands of tiny sparks, scattering to the four winds and making the meadow alive with sparkling lights, and the wolves drew back into a single pack between the woods and the gaping foremen.

“Care to join in the fray?” Hermione asked as her otter, which had been playing in the high grass, came bounding forward as though leading a charge.

Draco stared at her, then with a snort of laughter, waved his wand and said, “Expecto patronum!”

At once, in a blinding flash, a silvery-white ferret leapt into being and scurried after the otter, hissing and baring its teeth as though it were off to fight an especially large rat. Hermione looked at him in surprise as their Patronuses joined with the wolves and the remaining fairies. She followed them, keeping pace with the confusion and chaos surrounding them, shooting sparks of various colors and making loud bangs come from her wand while Draco stayed at her heels, doing the same.

It was safe to say the foremen didn’t know what had hit them. The advancing wolves with their bared teeth, the freakishly glowing animals speeding towards them, the inexplicable flashing lights and loud noises, not to mention the fact they had all just seen a bloody great dragon explode in front of them, were a little too much. All the Muggles left, shrieking blue murder and racing back to their cars. In less time than it would take to tell, they were rocketing down the road, swearing loudly that they would never return.

“I thought you said we were supposed to avoid dragons for this particular assignment?” Draco said breathlessly when they realized they could finally stop running.

“I didn’t say anything about fairies flying in dragon-shaped formation though, did I?” she said, gripping at a stitch in her side.

“You borrowed that trick off the Irish leprechauns at the World Cup back in 1994,” Draco said. 

“Guilty as charged,” she said. “But where exactly did your Patronus come from?”

He closed the distance between them and took her face in his hands.

“You just told me you love me. Where do you think I got my happy thought?” he asked, then kissed her again.

Unfortunately, before things could get too interesting, a loud “ahem” came from the direction of the woods.

“Right,” Draco said reluctantly, turning towards the wolves. “The Ministry thanks you for your help in this matter. We will continue to work on the possibility of the reintroduction of lupine groups into the U.K.”

“No problem at all,” the largest wolf said. “And our Portkey home would be…?”

“Here,” Draco said, fishing in the pocket of his robes until he brought out an old sardine tin. “It’s set to leave in about ten minutes.”

“Thank you,” the wolf said politely with another bow, “and fair fortune to you and your bitch.”

With that he took the tin in his mouth and trotted towards the forest, the other four wolves following in his wake.

“You do realize that if anyone else had called me that--” she began.

“--you’d have jinxed them into next Tuesday, quite possibly literally,” Draco said, but he was smiling. “How are the fairies fixed?”

“They agreed to perform in return for complete privacy in the Forbidden Forest for the Midsummer festivals,” she said, watching as the last of the little lights disappeared into the trees. 

“Complete privacy,” Draco said, his voice turning honeyed. “That sounds like paradise. What do you say to going home, love?”

“Yes, please,” she said, punctuating the words with a kiss.

The soft pop of their Apparition was the last trace of magic in the meadow that night. The place garnered a reputation for strange, otherworldly encounters, though most of the townsfolk believed the foremen had seen more of the bottom of a bottle than wolves and dragons and evil ghost weasels. Even so, people rarely visited the spot, except for the occasional TV crew that would put up EVP recorders that caught nothing while they traipsed about, talking loudly enough to scare away even the very stupidest gnomes and getting both perplexed and excited when their Muggle electronic equipment would stop working for no apparent reason. Hogwarts would be safe for a good long while.

In fact, it was quite safe enough to host the wedding of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger on the edge of the forest where they had first admitted their love not a year before.


End file.
